Tradition and Treachery
by Penni Lane
Summary: A modern Camarilla domain. The power struggle of the Kindred within.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer_**: I do not own the _World of Darkness_ or _Vampire: The Masquerade_. I have only created characters to reside that universe. I am merely a gamer and ST. And a fan of all things Vampire.

**_TITLE_**: Tradition and Treachery

**_Rating_**: R (for adult concepts)

**_Author_**: Penni Lane

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Five people sat gathered in an office. The room was dimly lit, and one of the men sat behind the desk with an air of undeniable authority. He was the Elder. His clanmates were watching him carefully, listening to him explain what he wanted to happen.

"Rite of Amaranth is not easily obtained, Henry," a blond man explained when he'd finished.

"Oh, I know. But, my friend, you perhaps overestimate the Prince...he's a Brujah."

"It's not as easy as that. Not all Brujah fit your stereotype." The only female of the group spoke from her seat in the back.

"Alice, you have a lot to learn if you're to be one of this clan," the Elder replied, "we're not supposed to support the rabble."

"Wasn't I just denouncing stereotypes?" The redheaded woman spat out.

The man narrowed his eyes. "You're in no place to speak to me like that, girl...I hold the power within the clan. You might be Primogen, but outside of the Camarilla, the clan follows my advice."

"Right...but still--that doesn't mean that the Brujah Prince will grant you Rite of Destruction, let alone Amaranth...I know the laws of our sect, Henry. I don't want to see you in trouble."

"I appreciate that. I do." His Scottish accent was rich. "But it can't hurt to ask. Besides...you do have some sway over the Brujah."

"I won't use him like that. Not for this. Not for politics. I love him too much to take advantage."

"You're blood bound. Of course you feel that way."

"Blood bond or not, I won't do it."

He met her eyes and spoke in a low, serious tone. "You will."

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The Prince was in his office at Elysium, watching the gathering on close-circuit security monitors. The Ventrue were meeting in the conference room. The other Brujah were in the "rant" room. The rest of the Kindred were milling about in the ballroom, with the Toreador spreading the newest gossip. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking up as the door opened. A small redheaded woman stepped in, shutting and locking the door behind her.

"I was beginning to think your clan was more important," he spoke softly as she crossed the room towards him.

"More important than you, Andrew? Never." She smiled sweetly, settling down on his lap, straddling him.

"Well, one can never be sure." He reached a hand up, pulling her head towards his neck.

"You can always be sure with me," she whispered as she placed kisses over the cool skin there.

He moved at an almost inhuman speed, lifting her and turning her around, bending her forwards over the desk. He leaned down and grinned as he whispered in her ear.

"Oh, I know I can, Alice."

His teeth sunk into the soft flesh of her neck, and the pleasure of the Kiss took over her body. She let out a deep, throaty moan as she writhed underneath him, putting up no resistance as he shoved her skirt up to her waist and pulled off her lace underwear, spreading her legs. He unzipped his pants, and with a moment's concentration to ready himself, thrust his cold, hard member into her. She reached around and grabbed one of his wrists, dragging it to her mouth as she bit, being careful not to draw any blood. She felt him stiffen and his moan vibrated against the skin of her neck as he kept the Kiss washing over her. He picked up the speed and put so much force behind his thrusts that the wooden desk began to creak beneath them. He pulled out of her and grabbed her by the hair, throwing her against the wall and continuing the show of passion. He dropped Majesty. With an almost expert ability, he brought her to an orgasm like no other she'd ever had. She dropped his wrist and screamed his name, her nails digging into his back. She felt him reach his own release--a hot stream seared into her. His blood. The only fluid a vampire has within its body.

He pulled back and kissed her softly. "You're mine, you understand that?"

She nodded numbly. "Yes...yours."

"Good. Now fix your skit. There's a Primogen meeting in half an hour."

Alice grinned and adjusted her skirt, smoothing over the wrinkles in the black fabric as it fell back down over her thighs.

"I love you, Andrew."

"I know you do."

"Do you love me? I want to hear you say it."

"Of course I love you, darling."

"Then do me a favor. Do my clan a favor."

"Name it." He looked up, gazing into the eyes of his lover.

It was just what she wanted him to do.

"Give us Rite of Amaranth on Lucas Graham."

"Done."

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If she had still been mortal, her heart would have been beating for escape against the confines of her ribcage as she left the Prince's office and made her way to the smaller of the two conference rooms, where the Council was set to meet. She opened the doors and stepped in, taking her place at one of the seats around the table. She was not alone. The Brujah representative was staring at her from the other side of the table.

"You were with him again."

Alice glanced up. "With who, Carrie?"

"You know what I'm talking about, bitch," the younger-looking girl spat out with a glare at the Ventrue.

"Hmm.. let's see now.. I'm Acknowledged, Respected, Loyal, Honorable, and as I'm Primogen, Revered...you don't have the standing to speak to me like that, Carrie."

"Maybe. But Andrew is my brother. I don't like to see him used."

"I don't know what you're talking about. But if you have a problem, I'm sure the Harpy would be glad to help us figure out which of us is being honest." 

The two women locked eyes, staring hard at each other. They were in this position when the other Primogen filed into the room.

"Are you two at each other's throats again?" The Nosferatu, Hannah Gruber, asked with an air of boredom.

"Seems like it," Matthew Douglas said with a grin. "Maybe there'll be a cat fight. I'll put money on Alice."

"You'll do no such thing, Primogen Douglas," the Tremere put in, casting a cold look around the room. "If you two are done, we can get to business."

Alice and Carrie gave each other matching sneers before taking their seats again.

"What's on the agenda for tonight?" The former asked.

"Well, we set up the feeding territories last week. The Prince gave his blessing for them, so we have to discuss the problems with the Anarchs and Independents. They come to Elysium, taking advantage of our hospitality, only to use that information against us."

"Is there proof of this, Ian? We wouldn't want to make baseless accusations against our allies," Hannah stated.

The Tremere chuckled. "I wouldn't make them if I weren't sure. I have reason to believe the Setites are leaking information to the Sabbat."

"What would they have to gain from that?" The Toreador inquired.

"Well, I'm not sure yet. But we have ways of tracking their movement. Their leader was meeting with the Archbishop."

"And you assume they're leaking information?" Alice raised an eyebrow.

"We can't be absolutely sure...but if they're meeting with the Sabbat at all, it calls into question trusting them."

"It does," Hannah began, "but it doesn't mean that they're betraying us."

Carrie leaned back in her chair, letting the arguments and bickering pass around her. She had nothing to say on the issue. Setites were snakes, and shouldn't have been trusted to begin with. The problem she was most concerned with was that Ventrue slut fucking around with her brother. He was the Prince, and that made him vulnerable. Besides, Andrew had a tendency to think with the wrong head, as far as she was concerned. And he spent far too much time with Alice. His own clan was the one he should be worrying about; the one he needed to be loyal to.

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Lucas Graham was in the warrens. Most of the Nosferatu were at Elysium, so he passed through the tunnels of sewer almost unnoticed. Of course, his ability to hide himself completely was a great help in this. He was on his way to an important meeting. He'd just remembered that he needed to speak with the Ventrue, Henry Briggs. His instincts were guiding him to the nightclub that the elder Kindred owned. The fastest way across town was to go underneath the streets.

The Gangrel chuckled. If only they knew...he was thought to be one of the snakes. A Setite. It was easy because his beast manifested itself with reptilian traits--snake eyes, a hiss in his speech. They believed him when he told them he was an independent, when he was really loyal to the Sabbat. It was so easy to pull the wool over the Camarilla's eyes.

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Henry was pacing his office. The summon should have brought the Setite already. Rite of Amaranth had been granted. He was anxious to get the deed done with, lest the Prince change his mind.

The room seemed much more constrictive tonight that it had before. The walls seemed closer, and the ceiling lower. Henry shuddered lightly. It reminded him of the discomforts of "sleeping" in a coffin. He hadn't done that in almost a century. A bed was so much more comfortable and convenient.

A knock at the door. His secretary opened it and stepped in ever so slightly.

"Mr. Graham is here, sir."

"Show him in."

She nodded and went back out. The traitor stepped in, shutting the door behind him.

"Lucas...so good to see you."

The guest seemed confused for a moment. "Yeah...I just remembered the meeting. We did have a meeting, right?"

"Yes, of course. Why else would you come to my office?" Henry offered a friendly smile, knowing that he had actually summoned the man he planned to kill. "Please. Sit."

The Gangrel moved to a chair opposite the desk the Ventrue still occupied, and took a seat, letting his mask fall to reveal his snake-like eyes.

"The Beast manifests itself in you quite...uniquely, Mr. Graham."

He chuckled. "Yeah...well, we're all different, I guess."

Henry stood, walking around to stand behind his guest. He placed his hands on Lucas's shoulders, gripping with a commanding strength.

"Yes, well you're a little too different. See, the other allies of the Camarilla are not really Sabbatists."

Shock flared through Graham's mind. He tried to get up, but found he couldn't move. Damn blue-blood must have learned potence.

"I don't know what you're talking about, asshole."

"Of course you do. I can see it in your aura. The deceit, the black veins...did you really think you could fool all of us?"

"Even if you're right...there's nothing you can do about it, huh? If I am an infiltrator, I've already gotten them the information they need to destroy you." 

"No, Lucas. That's where you're wrong." The Elder's voice was dangerously low and calm. "We've never trusted you. The Prince never trusted you. We've only been testing you with the information. See...most think you're a Setite. The snake-like features and all. I never believed that. I've known a few Gangrel with similar manifestations of the Beast. But I read your aura that first night. The black veins were a starting point."

"So I diablerized...so what?"

"Did you think my clan wouldn't realize that one of their own went missing so soon before you showed up?"

"One of your own...what?"

"Your aura isn't honest, Lucas. I suggest you change that."

A desire to obey this suggestion surged through the Gangrel. Henry tightened his grip on the shoulders.

"Now...what are you? Tell the truth."

"I'm a vampire."

"Who is your father?"

"Caine."

"What sect holds your allegiance?"

"The Sabbat."

"And who did you diablerize?"

"Brian Potts."

Anger flared inside of Henry's mind. So this was his sire's murderer. No matter now--his revenge would soon be fulfilled. He leaned down towards the Gangrel's neck, letting his fangs appear. Lucas's survival instincts kicked in, and he began to struggle. Fortitude granted him the resilience to break free of the Ventrue's potent hold, and he ran swiftly for the door. He wasn't counting on Henry being fleet of foot. The Ventrue caught up, and with alarming speed, drove a stake into the Gangrel's chest. Lucas fell to the floor, his body still. 

"Now...you diablerized my sire, Mr. Graham. You betrayed the trust of the Camarilla. You will face punishment."

The last thing Lucas saw was the ceiling of the office. The last thing he felt was the Kiss as Henry drained away his blood and soul.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a few hours after the gathering. Jason Shaw lurked in the shadows of the abandoned factory that had become his haven in the years he'd spent in the old city. He had seen many old buildings in his centuries of existence. They seemed to grow darker and more decrepit as his humanity faded further away. Perhaps, though, he was just growing more callous and cynical.

From outside, he could hear the rattling and creaking of the railway that ran behind the building. Shaw could feel the rumbling in the ground caused by the freight train as it screeched past. He brushed long, stringy, dark hair out of his deformed face. His green eyes were sunken in and surrounded by black, giving the illusion of a skull. This was made more dramatic by his cold, pale flesh that hung loosely from his bones. His nose was crumpled. Flat. Sunken into his face more than his eyes, which still worked (unlike the nose). Such was the curse of being embraced by a Nosferatu. He had become a walking corpse. "Living" in such a form for so many years had made him appreciate very much the power he had to change the way he looked. It made hunting much easier. It made fulfilling his duties as Seneschal much easier, although his true appearance was best for intimidation. 

Shaw approached the middle of the room. It was starting to lighten outside. He pulled up a manhole cover with one arm and stepped down to the ladder. Sliding the cover into place above him, he made his way through the labyrinth of the city sewers to the hidden room where he kept his coffin.

Kim was already there, curled up on the bed in the large crypt-like room. She was sound asleep. Jason managed a small smile. Good girl. He checked the other room. A coffin. Ken had come home as well. No need to check the others. He knew they were back already. He made his way through several doors and the security involved, and found himself in the safety of his tomb. He locked the door behind him, climbed into his coffin, and let sleep take him. 

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He wasn't used to the sunlight. With a curse, Gregory Spencer put his "shades" back on and steered his car into the left turn lane. Green light. He stepped on the gas and headed towards the college. He wasn't sure why he'd been asked to do this. Imagine him--the fucking Praetor--running errands for some little Primogen bitch. Come to think of it...why _had_ he agreed to it? Why was he in a ghoul-suit at nine in the morning going to the university when he could be sleeping and not spending useful energy that could be used on much more worthwhile tasks? 

Gregory sighed. Or his ghoul did. Either way, the sound was the same. He did owe Alice a favor. And fucking with Brujah influence was one of his favorite past-times. However, this particular rabble-rouser was a broodmate of the Prince. What came first again? Clan or Camarilla?

Then he remembered. Alice knew about his...indiscretions...with a certain Malkavian. Alice knew he was gay. He owed her a favor. He knew that she wouldn't hesitate to "accidentally" tell someone about his lifestyle should he fail to hold up his end of the deal. Bitch.

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"Yes...it is a lovely piece, isn't it? Early American. Colonial."

A painting, depicting an ocean sunset in vivid acrylics, hung on the wall in front of the pair. The sun was a reddish orange, surrounded by pinks and purples and the whites of clouds. The water was a deep blue, matching the customer's eyes almost exactly. She titled her head as she gazed at the painting, letting her brown curls fall over her shoulders. It was a good copy of the original. But she'd seen better.

Maureen raised an eyebrow at the art dealer. "Are you sure?"

"I've been told by several experts."

"Hmm...well, I don't think I'll decide just yet. What else can you show me?"

She knew the painting wasn't colonial. It wasn't even American. It wasn't even the original. She'd burned that years ago. It wasn't one of her better works, especially as a reprint. She'd get one of her ghouls to take care of it. Bad art tended to follow her around. The other Toreador got ahold of it and...well, one's reputation was everything.

Miss Fulton, as the dealer called her, listened partially as he showed her around the displays. Nothing caught her eye. Where had all the talent gotten to these days? Nobody could even make a good forgery!

Leaving the gallery, Maureen glanced at her watch. Just past nine. She glanced up at the sky and smiled, spotting her favorite constellation even through the dim street lights. No time to waste, though. The Primogen's new show was starting in twenty minutes, and she'd have to hurry to get there before the lights went down and the overture started! 


	3. Chapter 3

The Chantry house was quiet, for once. Regent William Michaels was at his desk, waiting for a most important phone call. It should have come an hour ago. Perhaps their treaty with the Setites was not going over well. Not that it mattered...the Camarilla, and therefore the Tremere, had no interest in keeping their side of the deal. The snakes had to be chased out. Their magic was a serious threat of competition to that of the "warlocks," as the Tremere were aptly called. True, the Assamites had their own sorcery. However, with their recent merger with the clans of the Camarilla, the assassins' magic would be harder to wipe out. The Setites, on the other hand, were widely distrusted among the Camarilla. It had only taken some minor convincing on the part of the Regent for the Prince to believe that the Independent clan had to go. There was simply no place for them in the area. Their institutions of vice got in the way of the Toreador and the local Ravnos (even if there was only one gypsy in the domain), and their evangelical behavior towards other Kindred was an annoyance. The fact that some of the clan knew the secrets of thaumaturgy was the icing on the cake for clan Tremere.

The phone call never came. The Chantry stayed still and quiet for the remainder of the night.

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The word was like a poison that was seeping through the dead veins in her body. "Praxis." It had been whispered at a clan event. The party after Primogen Peters' new show. The show had been a hit. The gathering afterwards had been slow. Mortals and Toreador. No real fun to be had...save for overhearing the wrong...or maybe the Praxis. The Harpy grinned, and her reflection mirrored the gesture. A praxis wouldn't necessarily be bad. Everyone knew the Prince was under the control of the Ventrue Councilor. Perhaps one of the Roses would make a better leader. After all, it was said that the only difference between Toreador and Brujah was the clan weakness. Both were full of inspiring passion. However, Adelle knew that Cantley wouldn't give up the throne easily. Someone would have to speak with him about it, before the plans proceeded. Being in the position of Harpy, she saw herself as the prime suspect for such a mission. The Kindred under his rule would not easily shift their loyalty, either. Cantley was a born leader. His charisma was beyond compare, and he had a natural air of authority. None of the Roses could claim such fortunate blessings. None save the Elder, Martin James, but he was far too arrogant to be good for the domain. 

Adelle could think of no one but herself within clan Toreador who had the experience and the..._je ne se quois_...to rule. But she wouldn't be Prince. Not for all the art in the Louvre. Well, maybe for that.

What other clan could be trusted? That was the question she had to ask herself now. If the Camarilla was truly in need of a new Prince, who would be the best candidate? Who could she support? Of course, her most public support would have to go to any clanmate who was up for the job...but behind the scenes, she had ways of subtlely siding with others. 

The Brujah were the ones being Praxised.

The Malkavians didn't have stable enough minds to lead.

The Nosferatu would be worthy, if one would step up to the job. They already knew all the secrets of the domain, and would have that advantage. It was also a disadvantage to the citizens. Keeping secrets was vital to most of the clans. 

The Toreador...Adelle had thought of them. A Rose would have to prove himself over and over if in a position of power. They were not viewed as a politically powerful clan in the domain.

Nobody trusted the Tremere enough to allow them to hold Praxis.

Ventrue saw themselves as the leaders of the Camarilla. They already influenced the mind of the current Prince. Perhaps Alice, once approached on the subject, would see merit in claiming Praxis. Adelle knew that clan Ventrue was something of a "boys club," and the women therein received little respect. Being Prince would give Alice something to hold over their heads. 

As Harpy, Adelle Stuart realized that in the situation of a Praxis, status mattered little. What was relevant was what was best for the domain. If another could prove that he--or she--could better lead the Camarilla, then so be it. Adelle, after all, was empowered by the Primogen and not the throne. It was tradition.

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Her eyes opened. She grinned. Surely, the mortal whose body she'd just left would be very confused. But that was the least of her worries. The word "Praxis" had been whispered at the Toreador party. They hadn't expected any other clans to show up--much less in possession suits. The Roses were much too caught up in their own affairs to concern themselves with something like that.

The only conflict she now saw was what to do with the information. Her clan would want to go too far with it--investigate the whole affair, find the traitor, and report to the Prince with the information. Like dogs bringing a newspaper to their master in exchange for a treat. There would be an issue of granting status, and she didn't want that. Not right now. She needed to guarantee her own political situation within the Camarilla before she could allow that. Besides, Cantley had ruled for several months now. It was about time for someone to seize Praxis. Right on schedule.Perhaps the clan would attempt to do it themselves, if they heard the rumor. It could very well get some of them out of the way, if the Prince knew of their treachery. The traditions were, after all, against such betrayal of the throne. They would be destroyed for their treason, and she would be able to seize some control over the clan...but did she want that? It would make her a high-profile member indeed. High-profile meant danger. She knew that. Especially for one in her situation. Taking on a greater role than the one she already had would provoke investigation. She didn't want that. Couldn't allow it. She knew her past...and she had to guard it well. 

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Briggs glanced at his watch. An hour until sunrise. He hurried down the hallway towards the front door of his haven, double-checking the series of locks on the entrance. Everything was in order. It seemed that way. Something was pricking at Henry's subconscious. Something was wrong.

_Having problems, Henry?_

He jumped at the voice. "Who's there?"

_Just you and me, Henry. Just us._

The doors had been locked all day and all night. There was no way anybody could have gotten inside. He glanced around. He found himself alone, as expected. The rooms were all empty. He checked for any unexplained auras. Nothing. He chuckled. The stress of these past nights must be getting to him more than he'd expected. 

_No, Henry. It's not stress._

The voice was starting to sound alarmingly familiar.

_So now you get it, Henry. You remember your mistake._

"No...it's not real...you're dead. Lucas is dead."

I'm very real, Henry. And I'm going to be real for the rest of your unnatural life.

Briggs shook his head slightly, trying to force away the demons.

_You'll never get rid of me. Never. I'll always be here..._

He summoned up all of the willpower he knew he possessed and concentrated on the fact that he was alone. The voice went away. Shaking, Henry made his way to the room where rest awaited.


	4. Chapter 4

"Does the Prince know?"

"Is not Prince we need to worry about."

"Yes--only his allies."

Three people were in a small office. The walls were strewn with artwork, but the trio was much too busy--too concerned with their own plans--to notice the paintings, tapestries, sculptures, and antiquities that decorated the room.

"Well, then, do his allies know?" A young man turned to the only woman among them, his eyes expressing the curiosity of a neonate.

She raised an eyebrow before speaking to her childe, a Nordic accent coloring her words. "Should hope not. Party was only Toreador and mortals. If anyone else knows, it is flock, and they not understand concept of praxis."

Her grasp on English was not firm--it never had been--but she always managed to express herself clearly. Edda turned to the third among them, bowing her head slightly in deferrence.

"If you like, I can speak with others and find out who knows what."

The dignified gentleman waved a hand in dismissal. "No...we need not concern ourselves with the others. Our plans are too well-laid to be ruined. Even if one of the other clans has heard of them, they won't know enough to do anything about it."

"Should we bring the Guildmaster in, sir?" Evan Harper asked quietly.

His sire shot him a look. "Speak when spoken to."

"No, Miss Sturluson...it's quite alright. Let the boy speak."

The neonate cleared his throat. "I'm just saying...if we're making a clan effort, shouldn't the entire clan be let in?"

The Elder made an effort to sigh. "Not all Roses are loyal, dear boy. Maureen has questionable alliances, as does our Primogen...and his Whip. I have included you and your sire in these plans because I know that your true alleigance lies with the clan. I have ensured that."

Evan recalled the blood-tainted drink he'd been given on more than one of these occasions. "I was only curious, sir."

"Curiosity is natural. But so is treachery, especially among our kind. Be careful that one does not lead to the other. Edda, my dear...by all means, please do speak with those allies you have in other clans. As your childe has reminded me, we are curious creatures. We must be sure that any cats are taken care of."

She was used to his speaking in such riddles. She never really understood the ideas in which they were based--what did cats have to do with anything?—but his meaning was far from lost. She knew what to do.

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The shrill ringing of that contraption called a cellular phone was just about driving Shaw mad. He couldn't just let it ring anymore, as the caller obviously wasn't going to just hang up and leave him be. He grabbed the device, flipping it open, and brought it to his ear.

"What?"

"Hello, Jason. I've heard something very interesting."

"Who is this?"

A feminine laugh filled his ears. "Oh, just a friend and fellow loyal Camarilla officer."

"Kimberly." He rolled his eyes. "I didn't recognize your voice. What is it?"

"I happened, by chance, to find myself at the Toreador party. They didn't notice me, of course...I'm good at that sort of thing."

"Just tell me what you heard. I don't need the whole damn story."

"Oh, alright...you need to be more patient, Jason. It's a virtue, after all."

"So is keeping one's rage in check, madame Brujah."

The scoff was evident in her voice as she spoke again. "I could always not tell you about the Praxis."

Jason found himself suddenly very interested in what she had to say. "What?"

"Yes. Praxis. Apparently, there's going to be an attempt. It wouldn't surprise me if it went down at the next gathering."

"You will, then, take precautions?"

"I always do. I'm a good Keeper. Anyone who says otherwise can answer to--"

"Yes. Good Keeper. Who's planning the Praxis?"

"I don't know. I overheard the tail end of a discussion between some of the Toreador. I wasn't close enough to see them, and I didn't recognize their voices."

"That's not very much to go on."

"No, it's not. But if we know it's coming, even if we're not sure who, when, how, or whatever...we can take measures to stop it. And you do want to stop it, don't you, Jason?"

"Of course. Andrew's like a brother."

"Good. Meet me at his club in an hour."

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Primogen Campbell was beyond happy. One of the thorns in her side had strangely disappeared. She knew the Prince wouldn't be happy about his sister being missing...but it would definitely make things much easier. With Carrie out of the way, Alice could assume an almost absolute control over the council.

Of course, the Ventrue knew exactly what had happened. The influence actions against her rival had been somewhat severe...but they had accomplished their goal. Carrie had to start over somewhere else. The best part was that none of it could be traced back to her. Alice had enough allies and contacts to ensure that. She had enough leverage over her clanmates to ask favors and get the job done without getting her own hands dirty.

Now she was on her way to Andrew's office. Something about a Praxis attempt. It would be most interesting to sit in on the meeting with him, the Seneschal, and the Keeper. It was a gathering of the people Andrew held near to him. The individuals he knew were loyal. Of course Alice was loyal...she had drank his blood three times, had she not? What else could she do to demonstrate such devotion to the Camarilla--to the throne?

Alice knew Andrew saw her as one of his many pawns. That was alright, because she really viewed him the same way. It was in her nature to use her relationship to protect herself. He wouldn't let any harm come to her. She was too valuable an asset. He was valuable too...but for different reasons. He could teach her a few things, and arrange for protection. The only thing that bothered Alice was the way her clan treated her because of the relationship. They ostracized her at first because she was a woman. When she sought friendship and alliance outside of their shared blood, they thought her a traitor to the clan. She couldn't win either way. The other Ventrue hated the idea that she might be blood bound to someone not of their line...let alone a Brujah, which was quite possibly the worst choice she could have made. Alice had her reasons, and her motives. She couldn't share them. They could be used against her far too easily.

As it was now, she was the Prince's closest confidant. His lover. His best friend. She had next to no power within her clan, but it was an acceptable sacrifice to get to where she was now within the Camarilla.

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The Prince was enraged. There were traitors among the subjects of his domain. A Praxis was being planned. They wanted to take his throne away. On top of it all, his sister was nowhere to be found. Her ties with the Department of Education had been sabotaged. Her false records were discovered as such. She'd been forced from the area by some other Kindred. Andrew knew that much. With the news of a Praxis in the works, he couldn't help but link the two together.

He paced back and forth across the office above the main floor of his nightclub. Through the windows on the wall, he could see his trusted friends coming towards the stairs that led to the small room. Alice would know what to do. She always did.

The door opened. Jason entered first, followed by the Keeper. The Ventrue was last. She shut the door and turned the lock.

"Are the cameras off, Andrew?"

"Yes, of course."

"Good." She took the seat closest to him.

Kimberly sat on the couch against the wall, and Jason took to a corner.

"I'm sure you know why I wanted you here," Cantley began, "and I'm sure some of you even know more about it than I do. So talk. Now."

"I heard the rumors first, Andrew," Kimberly said with a small smile. "It was at the Toreador party after their Primogen's opening night."

The Prince's grip on the back of his desk chair tightened. The wood began to creak under the pressure. "The Roses...I might've guessed. Fags and bitches..."

"I doubt they're all involved...only a few are stupid enough to think they'd succeed. The Elder, especially. I'm sure we can trust Adelle, though, as long as we have the Primogen on our side."

"That's assuming none of them are involved, Seneschal." Alice then glanced to Andrew. "Darling, we can't trust anyone in this situation. Not even our clanmates. We can't know who's involved, and how far it reaches."

"You're a Primogen, are you not, Miss Campbell? You know nothing of your fellow councilors--assuming you're not involved yourself..."

She glared at the Brujah. "I have nothing to do with this."

"I trust Alice with my life, Kim," Andrew told his clanmate, "otherwise she wouldn't be here right now. Jason...you mentioned the Toreador elder. Mr James, right?"

"Yes. His arrogance gives it away. He's the only one with the audacity to expect success."

"He have any control of the schools?"

"What does that have to do with Praxis?"

"You're a Nosferatu...you haven't heard? My sister's influences were fucked. She had to leave town."

"I believe his influences lie mostly with the upper class and the government."

"Well shit, doesn't anyone have the schools?"

Alice cleared her throat. "Actually, a clanmate of mine has some sway in the education department...Mr. Spencer."

"Did he do it?"

"I couldn't say, Andrew. You'd have to speak with him."

The Prince cast his cold steel-toned eyes over the room. When he spoke, it was evident that his rage was barely contained. "I want to know who did this. I don't care what you have to do to find out."

The three sat there silently, watching the furious Brujah.

"What are you waiting for?" His words came out through clenched teeth. "GO!"

Kimberly and Jason bowed and scrambled out of the room. Alice lingered behind, waiting for them to leave before she closed the door again, approaching the Prince. She placed a small hand on one of his muscular shoulders.

"Andrew..."

His head turned sharply to look at her, the built up anger still present in his eyes.

"I couldn't say it in front of them...especially Jason. If the Nosferatu knew...everyone would know, and my clan would find out."

He spun, taking her wrist in his grip. "Find out what, Alice?"

Her blue eyes widened slightly at the pressure he was forcing onto her bones. Good thing she had the resilience necessary. "I know who did it. It was Spencer."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"I'm sure you do...or can you just not tell me yet?" His grip tightened.

Alice winced. She wasn't used to this sort of treatment. She let out a slight whimper and he let out a growl, swinging her into the wall with her wrists pinned beside her. His dark eyes glared down at her. He'd never been this way before. He'd drank three times of her blood--he shouldn't be able to hurt her like this.

"Tell me."

Her voice was shaky when she found it again. "My clan...they're angry because of you. Because of us. Your sister was a weak spot."

The Prince released her arms and stepped back, only to slam his fist with alarmingly potent strength into the wall only inches from her head. She let out a slight shriek. He stepped closer, looking down at her small frame.

"If you tell your clan that I know...if you tell Spencer..." he trailed off, unable to finish.

"I won't," she whispered, still trembling.


	5. Chapter 5

As he awoke, Andrew realized that his office was trashed. It would take the ghouls hours to clean up the mess resulting from his frenzy. His sister was gone and he had no idea where to even start looking. Exhausted, he picked himself up off the floor and made his way through the secret passage to his haven.

Had Alice known anything? Probably not...he knew that now. His rage had gotten the better of him earlier, and he knew he should apologize to her. After all, they were friends and lovers. And he did love her. And not just because he'd tasted her blood on more than one occasion. And, whether she realized it or not, she had his own vitae in her system. He'd originally planned on using her desire for thrill against her. Fuck her. Blood bond her that way. Most Kindred didn't realize blood could be used that way...regardless, his intentions had been cast aside as he actually got to know her. He'd even agreed to a mutual bond. Of course, he was fully bound to his sire. But Alice didn't need to know that. 

His sire--of course! How could he have been so stupid? She would know where to look for Carrie. Or at least have a better idea of where to start. Help was just a phone call away.

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The room was, as expected, covered with pieces of art. None of them held any real merit over the others, but all were beautiful as far as Alice Campbell could tell. She was no art connoisseur, but she could tell the difference between something that was aesthetically pleasing and something that was not. She glanced at her watch. Always the one to arrive early, she'd gotten to the gallery half an hour before her scheduled meeting with Adelle. As if on cue with her wish to pass the time more quickly, her cell phone rang, the shrill noise echoing across the mostly empty room. She grabbed it quickly, and stepped into one of the hallways. 

"Hello?"

"What the fuck are you trying to pull, Campbell?"

She smiled. "Ah...Mr. Spencer, is there something the matter?"

"You know exactly what's the matter, bitch. I was just summoned by the Prince."

"I'm assuming it didn't work, then?"

"Of course not," he scoffed at the idea of a Brujah being more socially adept than himself. "What did you tell him?"

"I didn't tell him any little secrets, Mr. Spencer. Honestly."

"Damnit, Alice...I know you did something."

"Why on earth would I betray a cousin, my dear? I've always been loyal to the family."

"That has yet to be proven."

She chuckled. "Well, you can ask me when you see me next. I'm sure you can tell by now if I'm lying to your face, yes?"

"Right...meet me at ten. My office."

There was a click, and the line went dead. Alice turned the phone off and put it back in her pocket. She glanced at her watch again. Adelle was fashionably late. And Spencer was getting suspicious. She'd have to allay his fears somehow...

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Gregory Spencer put down the phone in his office and looked across the room at Briggs.

"She'll be here."

"Good. I'm assuming you have a stake."

"Of course, sir."

"And you're sure she's the one who's framing you."

"Yes. I'm sure she told the Prince that I was responsible."

His half-answer, half-evasion was enough to be read as truth in his aura. Briggs had been staring through the conversation, and now nodded.

"Alright, then. You'll stake her and I will...question her. Privately. I want no interruptions."

"Very well, sir." Spencer hid his trivial fear--that the truth about him would also be discovered.

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"Alice! It's so good to see you!"

The Primogen turned from the painting she was studying and smiled.

"And you, Adelle."

To keep the masquerade of old friends meeting, the two women hugged.

"I'm being followed," the Harpy whispered, "we need to leave. Now."

"What??" Alice whispered back furiously as they parted.

"So yes--I was thinking we could go for some coffee? The gallery is sure to be closing soon."

"Oh, of course. I know just the place."

They headed for the door. As soon as they reached the street, she felt Adelle watching her, and then heard her voice, projected into her mind.

_There's two of them. Don't look now, but they're about a block behind us. Sabbat._

Alice nodded. "So how've you been?"

"Well, and yourself?"

They made idle chatter as they walked towards the coffee shop run by the Tremere. They had just come to an alleyway a block away when--suddenly--they found themselves surrounded by solid black. If they had the need to breathe, it would have been a suffocating darkness. The sounds of the night became muffled in the abyssal black, and both Alice and Adelle lost all sense of where they were.

_Shit! What's going on?_

Adelle had never dropped the mental link. Alice processed her thoughts, sending a reply--and finding herself very glad that her sire had taught her about the Sabbat during her Accounting.

_It's a Lasombra power. Don't drop this link, whatever you do, we can't hear each other otherwise._

_How do we get out of it?_

_Shroud burns. Strike a match._

_I'll do one better. You still beside me?_

Alice reached out an arm and brushed against someone. She went that way and put her hand on the individual's shoulder.

_Is that you I'm touching?_

_Yes._

_Then yes, I am._

_Good. Stay there._

Adelle reached into her purse and pulled out the weapon she kept there.

_Might want to close your eyes. This could be ugly._

The Harpy closed her own eyes and pulled the trigger, aiming in front of her. A jet of flame spewed forth from the small barrel. The deal she'd made for it with Brujah seemed to have paid off. When she opened her eyes, the shroud was gone. They were in the alleyway. Surrounded by four attackers. One of them was writhing on the ground. On fire.

_Open your eyes, we have to get out._

Alice opened her eyes and cringed. She hated fighting. One of the Sabbatists lunged for her, claws sprouting from his fingers. In the bat of an eye, she dodged to the side and pulled her gun. No time for a silencer tonight. She could see Adelle fighting out of the corner of her eye, and then she felt a knife in her side. No--a claw, she realized as she turned to look, her gun moving with her line of vision. She put a bullet in his head. The force knocked him back against the dumpster.

_I've got an idea. Majesty._

Adelle grinned, hearing the idea from her ally. She focused and expended the sheer force of her will to force her most commanding presence upon those around her. She briefly felt Alice's similar power effect her, but managed to ignore it. The Sabbatists looked puzzled for a moment, and kept their distance.

_Let's go. Now._

_My thoughts exactly._ Alice retorted, backing away from the pack.


	6. Chapter 6

Ten thirty. The bitch was late. Spencer glared at the clock sitting on his desk.

"She said she'd be here, correct?"

He glanced at his elder. "She's half an hour late."

Briggs shrugged. "Yes, and she can explain that when she arrives…which should be any minute now. I've summoned her, since your agreement was obviously not enough to secure her attendance. There will be no need of the stake, either."

The younger of the two kindred scowled. The elder gave him an amused look. Then, a knock sounded.

"Come in," Spencer called out.

The door opened and the woman they'd been waiting for entered. She gave Spencer a smile and paused, seeing Henry Briggs there as well.

"Strategoi…I did not know you would be here," she spoke softly, bowing her head in a measure of respect.

"Your Praetor and I were just discussing something interesting, girl. Something I'd like to now discuss with you in private."

"Of course, sir."

Briggs then simply nodded to Spencer, who quickly left the room. Alice moved to the chair across from her elder and sat gracefully. She had just settled into the chair when, before she could register his movement, the Strategoi struck her. Hard. She fell back into the seat, instinctively bringing a hand to her jaw. She glanced up at him, too shocked to ask why. He placed a hand on either arm of the chair and leaned in, his face inches from hers.

"You're going to listen to me, Alice. I've been watching you. Despite what you may think, I really don't give a shit that you're fucking a Brujah. Carthage was before my time, too. What does bother me is you using your clanmates to further your own petty little causes."

"But I—"

"Silence."

She became quiet, her will not strong enough to disobey.

"I don't care how stupid Spencer is. I don't care what he does in his private hours—and yes, I know what he does in that time. He is your Praetor, girl. You _will_ follow his leadership. You _will_ respect his position."

Alice filled her eyes with crimson tears. Her expression was one of pure innocence. Always a good actress, she stuttered slightly as she formed her reply. "B-but I…I didn't do anything…"

"Anything, Alice? I'm finding it hard to believe you."

"What is he accusing me of? Do I even get to know that?"

"You used influence to rid yourself of the Brujah Primogen. And then blamed him for it."

"Read my aura, sir. I didn't do that."

Briggs frowned slightly, realizing that her answer was truth. "One of you is lying to me. I want to know who."

"I don't have the proper influence to 'rid myself' of Carrie…"

"So what are you saying?"

She opened her mouth to tell him half the truth again, but felt herself compelled to tell him the entire story.

"I…I know Spencer's secrets, sir, and I used them against him. So he would use his influence to chase that bitch out of the domain. She was a thorn in my side. With her gone, I have control of the Council. Our clan has control of the Council. I didn't think they'd be able to trace his influence…or I wouldn't have asked him to do it."

He seemed surprised to hear the whole story. "And can you fix it?"

"I can make Andrew forget that he knows…but I don't know who else…"

He nodded slightly. "Do that. Plant it in his head that the Toreador are responsible. They're planning a Praxis anyway, from what I've heard. They can take the fall for us."

"Yes. Of course."

"Now," he stood, keeping his eyes down on her, "for your punishment…"

Her eyes widened as she saw him loosening his belt and she scrambled out of the chair and rushed for the door. He was, of course, much faster, and easily caught her. He threw her across the room and she hit the wall.

"It's either this or a year in a box, Alice. Take your pick." He crossed the floor to stand in front of her.

"Fuck you," she practically hissed.

"That was the plan."

Her eyes fixed on his with a steady glare. She couldn't afford to spend a year in torpor. She didn't particularly want to sleep with Briggs, either…she'd heard stories. He was a sadistic bastard if the rumors were true at all. Not saying a word, she unbuttoned her jacket and shifted so it would slide from her shoulders, landing in a pool of fabric on the floor. Her fingers moved to her shirt and unbuttoned the blue cotton. Her pale skin beneath was a stark contrast to the red bra. She felt his hands slide under her skirt and rip away her matching panties. She began to take her blouse off the rest of the way, but he stopped her.

"No, leave it on."

She shifted slightly, no longer meeting his eyes. Uncomfortable and angry. He chuckled as he finished undoing his pants—button, zipper. He pushed them down over his hips. He wasn't wearing anything underneath; he had, after all, been planning this. He pressed her into the wall, mentally directing his blood to a central location.

"Use your blood." He ordered

"I'd rather not."

He struck her with alarming force and she stumbled to the side.

"Don't talk back to me, you stupid slut. Do it."

She turned, raising her hand to slap him. Being the faster of the two, he caught her wrist and spun her around, tossing her easily onto the floor. He was quickly on top of her, pinning either arm to the hardwood floor. He caught her eye.

"Use. Your. Blood."

Alice felt her body respond without her intending to. She gave up the struggle—it was no use anymore. Just after she felt him enter her, she felt his fangs sink into the flesh of her neck and then the ecstasy of the Kiss filled her entire being. A low moan of pleasure escaped her parted lips, and Henry let go of her wrists, letting his cool hands explore her body. She took the opportunity to shove him away from her. He snarled and grabbed her by the hair, dragging her to the desk. He threw on it face-first and twisted her arms behind her back, holding them in place with one hand.

"It's this or a year in a box," he reminded her, whispering in her ear with a malicious grin. "Not that, of course, I mind your struggling. I actually quite enjoy it."

He pushed his legs between hers and used his free hand to pull her skirt up to her hips. With a potent trust, he forced his cold hard flesh inside of her. She screamed, unprepared for the searing pain. He kept a steady superhuman strength and speed, the wood of the desk creaking beneath the might of his movements. He managed to maneuver his face to a bare shoulder and bit down hard, eliciting another shriek from her. One that turned into a subtle gasp as the unwanted pleasure took control of her body.

"Good…you might as well enjoy it," he grunted. "It's all you're good for anyway."

After nearly two hours of alternating pain and ecstasy, Alice was allowed to gather her clothes and leave. She noticed, on her way to the door, that Briggs was tying a knot in a length of string that he'd taken out of his pocket. She shrugged it off and quickly made her way out of the room, not saying a word as she passed Spencer.


	7. Chapter 7

"Got a light?"

Kimberly turned, glancing at the person who had taken the seat next to her. He was moderately attractive—nothing so spectacular as to draw a lot of attention. Medium-length brown hair, grey-blue eyes and an average build. A smile crossed her face.

"Sure." She replied, pulling a Zippo from her pocket. She flicked it open and offered the flame.

The man took a drag from his cigarette. Kim recognized the scent. Cloves.

"I haven't seen you in here before," he remarked. "You new in town?"

She chuckled softly. "No, not really…I just don't come _here_ often."

"Right," he nodded, offering a hand. "I'm John."

She took his hand, shaking it firmly. "Nice to meet you, John. I'm Kimberly."

"Kim—can I call you that?"

She nodded, slightly amused. He was definitely human…and definitely trying to hit on her.

"So, what do you do, John?" She asked, lighting her own little cancer stick and taking a long drag. No better way to keep the Masquerade and blend in.

"I'm a teacher, actually," he blushed.

"Nothing wrong with that. Teachers are good people."

"I guess…it's just not the best job in the world."

"Don't you enjoy it?"

"Not all the time…students can be a real pain in the ass."

"Well," she reasoned, "if you don't enjoy it, why not quit? Find something better?"

"Can't afford to."

"I hear that…my job isn't all that rewarding." She smiled slightly…it was true. Being Keeper was not the best thing in the world.

"What do you do, then?"

"I, uh, work security for a private company."

"You? Security?" He looked her over. "Never would have guessed."

"Yeah," she frowned. "Well, appearances can be deceiving."

"Sorry, didn't mean to offend you…" he paused, looking around the rapidly filling bar. "Hey, you want to go talk somewhere else? It's getting crowded here, and I'm not exactly a people person."

Kim looked at her watch. She didn't have anywhere to be, but she had to keep up appearances. "Uh, sure. Why not."

She paid for her drink, leaving a tip on the bar top, and followed him out the back door to the parking lot. As soon as the door swung shut behind her, she felt splintering pain as something was shoved into her chest. She stumbled and fell to the ground, paralyzed. Staked.

"You did well, John," an accented voice remarked. A woman's voice.

"I try, Miss Sturluson."

"Yes, and you'll receive your payment."

As Kim watched—she couldn't close her eyes if she'd wanted to—the Toreador grabbed the man and pulled him against her, leaning in and claiming his neck. The man moaned in pleasure for a few minutes and then went still. Edda let his limp body fall to the ground and then crouched beside Kim.

"Ah yes…our wonderful Keeper. Am so sorry about having to do this."

She closed Kimberly's eyes and moved both bodies to the trunk of the waiting car.

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Thomas Wallace was making his rounds of the city. As Sheriff, he took his duties very seriously. He was the only Tremere holding a court position, after all.

"Damnit," he whispered as the phone rang.

He pulled over to a side of the road to answer. "Yes?"

"Where are you, Wallace?"

"Oh, hello, Your Grace. I'm near city hall, why?"

"Kimberly was supposed to m meet me. Never showed up. Find her."

"Yes, sir."

He hung up and pulled back out into the road. He had no idea where the Keeper would be. He didn't even know where she went to feed or where she havened. He made his way towards Brujah territory. Towards the club the Prince owned. It was as good a place as any to start. Second floor was the Kindred hang-out. No Kimberly there. He even checked the rant room. It wasn't the best idea. He stepped in and found two Toreador…and a stake in his own chest.

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Alice had retreated to her haven after the incident with Briggs. She was standing in the bathtub, letting the hot water of the shower stream down and cleanse her body. It wasn't much of a comfort—she would still feel dirty. Used. On the inside. Not much could be done to wash that away. Through the open bathroom door, over the rush of the running water, she heard her phone ringing. Forcing a sigh from her long-dead lungs, she turned off the water and wrapped her blue terrycloth robe around her, tying the belt around her slim waist. She made her way to the nearest phone—the one next to her bed—and picked up.

"What?" She snapped into the receiver.

"Alice…? Are you all right?"

"No, Adelle, I'm not fucking all right. What is it?"

"Um…" the Harpy was obviously taken aback. "Well, the Sheriff and Keeper are missing. Andrew asked me to call the other officers—and people he considers, uh, friends—to warn them that the shit has hit the fan as far as the Praxis goes."

"Fuckin' A. Thank you."

"What happened?"

"You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do. I consider you a friend too, Alice. You were fine before…before you went to meet with Spencer. Did he do something?"

"No. I don't want to talk about this right now, Adelle. Is there anything else you need?"

"When are you going to talk to Andrew?"

"I don't know."

"You're the only one he would turn the throne over to, Alice. My elder won't let him live if they have to fight over it."

"And your elder would accept me as a Prince?"

"You can easily manipulate him. You're a pretty woman. He's a Toreador. Beauty is our weakness."

"Right. I have to go. I'll talk to you later."

Without letting Adelle get another word in, Alice hung up and settled onto the edge of her bed, running a hand through her damp red hair. Manipulation through sex had always been one of her options. But she wasn't sure if she could be comfortable with that again. After what had happened.


	8. Chapter 8

The room was dark, save for a dim lamp that hung from the ceiling. There was an obvious breeze coming from vent a foot above the floor. The space was no more than six feet by ten. Kimberly didn't notice anything else as she felt the stake ripped out of her chest and heard the door slam shut. Nothing other than a man propped up against the opposite wall. She strode towards him, trying to recognize his features. Wallace. The Sheriff. With a stake in his chest.

It dawned on her that the Praxis attempt might be coming sooner rather than later. It wouldn't surprise her if they were soon joined by the Seneschal and the loyal Primogen.

Kim considered leaving Wallace where he was while she made her escape attempt, but knew that his clan's powers could be very useful. She grabbed the piece of wood and yanked it out of his flesh. He convulsed for a moment, and then sat up.

"Wh-where am I?"

"You and I are apparently being held captive, my dear Sheriff."

He squinted, letting his eyes adjust to the poor lighting. "Keeper?"

"That'd be me, yes. Any bright ideas?"

"Escape."

"No kidding."

"Did you see who did it?"

"I saw Sturluson. You?"

"Her childe. And the Primogen."

Kim nodded slightly. "So it _is_ the Toreador."

"What's the Toreador?"

"Oh, don't tell me you haven't heard the Praxis rumor. The Roses are making their attempt for the throne. God…some sheriff _you_ are…"

"Sorry."

"No, don't apologize. Let's just get out of here. Got any tricks up your sleeve?"

"Plenty. But not the power to use them right now. I hadn't fed before they got to me…and I feel even more of a need now. I think they took some of my blood."

"It wouldn't surprise me."

"I guess they didn't want me using my magic."

"Guess?" Kim laughed softly. "You don't need to guess. It's really fucking obvious they didn't want us breaking out of here that way."

"I don't think they wanted us breaking out _at all_…but yeah. Obvious."

"So we're back to the beginning. Any bright ideas?"

"Well, now that I think about it…"

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

The Prince was safe. Nobody knew how to bypass the security in his haven. There were halon gas jets to prevent mortal hunters. Stake traps and flame traps to rid him of any traitorous Kindred who might come around. He was in the security room. The traps were automatic. He was half-expecting Alice to pay him a visit, and was watching for her. She knew about some of the traps, yes…he'd wanted her, in the beginning, to think that he trusted her entirely. But he'd never told her about a few of them. He didn't want her to find out the hard way. 

Sure enough, the cameras picked up on movement and he zoomed in on the intruder. It was definitely her. He gradually switched off the little traps as she came to them so that she could pass through safely. As soon as she cleared a hallway, they went back on. Just in case someone was following her. Andrew left the security in the hands of his loyal ghoul and pressed a button. A panel of the wall slid to one side, revealing one of the many secret passages in the haven. He stepped in, letting the door close behind him, and made his way through the dark maze to another hidden panel. The right combination opened it, revealing a small room. A desk was at one corner. The walls were lined with bookcases. Andrew had read each and every book he owned. He stepped out into the room and the door slid shut behind him just before a knock came at the other door. The big wooden doors that led in from the hallway.

"Come in!."

The door on his right opened and Alice stepped in.

"I wanted to talk to you about something important…"

"Of course, my love," he smiled widely, sitting on the edge of his desk. "Drink?"

"Hmm..? No, I've had enough tonight, thank you."

She seemed unsettled as she took her usual seat in the leather armchair facing him.

"Are you all right, darling?"

Her gazed darted up to him. "Yes…I'm sorry, just a bit worried, is all."

"About Kim and Wallace?"

"More about you." She folded her hands in her lap.

He chuckled. "Why would you worry about me?"

"Because…while they'll stake your officers and keep them out of the way so they can claim Praxis, they'd kill you if you refused."

"It won't come to that, Alice." He leaned forward, resting his hands on hers.

She stood quickly, pulling away and beginning to pace. "How can you be so sure?"

Andrew frowned. "Because security here is better than at Fort Knox…they can't get in here."

"And if you need to leave? What then?" She still wasn't looking at him; wasn't meeting his gaze.

"Then I'll take protection. High-caliber protection. Alice, look at me."

She turned ever so slightly and lifted her eyes to his. She seemed lost. Sad.

"I won't let them take my throne, Alice. I can't. But I'm not going to stay here like some scared idiot."

"I…" she paused, biting her lip slightly. "I did have an idea…"

"Well tell me, then." He strode towards her, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek.

She pulled away from the caress, moving to look out the window. "Well, it occurred to me that while they might not accept you as Prince, they might accept someone else. Other than themselves, I mean."

He paused. "Someone else…? I just told you I won't let them take my throne."

"Someone you trust. Someone who will still follow your lead. I'm sure one of your clanmates would be more than willing…but I don't think the Elder Rose likes the idea of a Brujah prince at all."

"Then who would you suggest, Alice? Who the hell can I trust other than my clan and…" he trailed off, gazing at her curiously. "And you…"

She turned slightly from the view of the park provided by the penthouse. "It's only an idea, Andrew. I can't guarantee that they'd accept me."

His brow furrowed and he frowned. "You want the throne."

"Not at all…I've never wanted it. It paints a target on the person who sits there. But I'd rather me be a target than you. I love you, Andrew…and I would follow you regardless of who sits on the throne."

He backed up, sitting back on the desk. He sat, silently processing what she was saying.

"I don't like it. It would put you in danger. The Roses could go after you."

"I can handle the Roses, Andrew. Put something pretty in front of them and they turn to mush." She walked towards him slowly, coming to a stop just in front of where he was perched. "And their elder is afraid of…"

"Afraid of what?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Afraid of Briggs." She forced the name to leave her lips

"You don't seem to like him much either."

"He's family," she replied almost automatically. "I would never wish him ill."

"But you still don't like him."

She gave him a look, not answering. "That's not the point."

"Well, if the old rose is afraid of him, why not let Briggs be Prince?"

Alice shuddered involuntarily. "Do you trust him, though? To pick up where you left off?"

"Of course not. Unless you think he could fill my shoes."

"No…" She glanced down, studying her own shoes for a moment. "He couldn't even begin to."

The Brujah managed to catch her gaze and smiled softly. "And you would know?"

The remark caught her off guard. She dropped her eyes from his and backed up to sink into her usual armchair. Her reaction surprised Andrew, and he found himself staring at her in disbelief. He was the first to find his voice.

"You…slept…with him…?"

His accusing tone made her cringe. "Not exactly. But it's not important right now. Keeping you in charge is why I'm here."

"Not exactly, Alice? What happened? I care more about you than the fucking throne. Did he do something? Because if he did, I'll rip his fucking—"

"You will do no such thing." She raised her own eyes to meet his, both stares full of anger. "You will not harm a Venture on my account."

"If he hurt you…"

"It doesn't matter." She forced a smile, her eyes boring deep into his as if searching his soul. "And we're done with this topic."

He shrugged. "All right. You were saying?"

A faint smile crossed her face. "I can manipulate the Toreador elder. I don't think I could do it on your behalf—he already doesn't like you. However, I spoke with the Harpy and he apparently has a weakness."

"What would that be?"

"Pretty girls."

The Prince frowned. "You mean, you're going to seduce him?"

"Oh, good lord, no…just let him think that I will. He'll be putty in my hands by the time I'm done. I can make him think I'm his puppet. And with you by my side, I'll be able to draw out their treachery and prove it to the court. Then they'll be executed. Breach of domain and a failed praxis attempt are capital charges, Andrew."

"So why don't I just have them killed right now?"

"There isn't enough proof."

"My word against theirs should be enough."

"Combined, they have more status than you. Therefore they are right and you would be wrong."

"But I'm the fucking Prince, god damn it…"

"I know, love. But I don't think that can save you here."

"Well it should at least do something!" He yelled, slamming his fist on the surface of his desk in frustration. "Wait…I can strip them of status."

Alice paused before responding. "Yes…you can. But we don't know how many are against you yet. We need to find out more. Let me speak with the Elder."

He studied her carefully. "It's too dangerous."

"Andrew, I can handle myself."

"I don't like it."

"I didn't say you had to. And I'm not really asking your permission."

He lifted a hand to brush a lock of hair from his eyes and shrugged. "Then I guess it doesn't matter what I tell you, Alice, because you're just going to do it anyway."

She frowned. "That's not what I meant…"

"Yeah, well, that's how it sounded. Go. Do what you need to do. Just be careful…I don't want to lose you." He stroked her cheek affectionately.

She leaned into his caress, closing her eyes with a smile. "I will."


	9. Chapter 9

OOC: BIG thanks and hugs to Lady Tremere for her reviews and advice.

And now on with the story…

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > 

Primogen Kevin Peters of the clan of the Rose glanced around cautiously before stepping out of his car. He quickly approached the building in front of him, disappearing into the shadows provided by the deserted factory. He closed the door behind him and made his way through the twists and turns in the labyrinth of old, rusted machinery to the clearing in the middle. The Lasombra was waiting.

"The attack failed," the Armani-clad monster spoke, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the night air.

Peters noticed the cigarette burning in his ally's left hand. "So I heard. A pity. I'm assuming you've heard of the praxis rumors?"

"Yes, of course. You need to get involved. Join the traitors. Get rid of Cantley and his supporters to make way for the true children of Caine."

"I'll do my best."

"Your best had better be good enough, Kevin."

He nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now get back before they start asking questions."

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

Martin James lifted his head and looked at the people sitting on the other side of his rosewood desk. The elder of the two, the woman, had striking Nordic features—pale skin, an angular face, and beautiful blonde hair. Her childe was the exact opposite. A very round young man, Harper had dark hair and eyes. Germanic descent, no doubt. It didn't matter much to the Elder at any rate. All he truly cared about was their loyalty to him and to the clan, and how useful they would be in his plans. Thus far, they had managed to obtain for him two of the opposing team—the Keeper and the Sheriff: two precious gems he was keeping under lock and key.

"I will try for Seneschal next, sir?"

He blinked, his thoughts coming back to the reality he was sitting in. "No, my dear, that is not a good idea. He's a Nosferatu. You won't be able to find him."

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Very well, Guildlord."

He was about to dismiss them when the door was thrown open and a ghouled servant rushed in.

"What is the meaning of this?" Martin roared, his eyes burning with rage.

The servant bowed immediately. "I'm sorry sir…but Wallace and Robbins…they've escaped."

He was dead before he could explain further. The Elder was across the room in less than a heartbeat, and the servant's head was ripped from his body. The eyes blinked several times before closing for a final rest.

The younger Kindred in the room stared at the scene before him, blinking repeatedly as if trying to rid his mind of the gruesome image.

"You…Harper," the Elder growled. "Find out how this happened."

"Y-yes sir."

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

Kim Robbins poked her head out of the alleyway. The coast was clear. She motioned behind her for the Tremere and he joined her as she stepped out towards the street. They walked quietly down the sidewalk until they came to the nightclub. The bouncer recognized her immediately and let them in. She led the way upstairs to the office and didn't even bother to knock as she opened the door. The man at the desk looked up abruptly, about to protest…and then he saw who his visitors were.

The Prince rose from his seat and crossed the room quickly, drawing his clanmate into a fierce hug. "I thought they'd killed you, Kim!"

"Sorry, no luck there," she said, grinning as she hugged him back before pulling away.

"Wallace."

"Sir."

"Please…both of you…sit down," Andrew gestured to the couches and chairs as he made his way to one. "What the hell happened?"

His clanmate replied first. "Sturluson. Bitch lured me out with kine. Staked me before I knew what was happening."

"Her childe—Harper—and Primogen Peters flanked me in a dark alley when I was looking for her," Wallace gestured towards Kimberly.

Andrew nodded. "Sturluson should be on her way here. I've just summoned her. I have some questions she needs to answer."

"Is that really wise, sir? She could bring friends…"

"I know what I'm doing, Tom. And with you two here, I feel it will go well. I'm sure she already knows you've escaped anyway…how _did_ you escape…anyway?"

Kim chuckled. "Well, they took enough of his blood so he couldn't use his magic…but for some reason, they didn't take mine."

The Prince glanced at his Tremere Sheriff. "So you drank her blood and were then able to use it?"

"That's about it, yes."

"Very resourceful…"

A knock sounded on the office doors. Andrew's ghoul opened the door and peered in.

"Sir," she spoke, clearing her throat to get their attention, "there's a Miss Sturluson here to see you."

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

For some reason, Alice was finding herself drawn to Briggs. It very much resembled the rumored feelings of a blood bond. She shrugged off the idea. Impossible. That had never worked on her. However, the more she thought about him and what had happened, the more she found herself warming up to him. Maybe she was starting to actually like him—for whatever reasons. It was the only thing that made sense to her. She frowned at that thought as she pulled her car into its spot outside her haven.

Just before she took the keys out of the ignition, she paused and remembered that she had one more errand to run. Instinct guided her to her elder's mansion and she parked the car, thinking nothing of the sudden excursion as she headed through the held-open door and up to the familiar office. The double doors were open and she stepped through, stopping only when she reached the rosewood desk on the other side of the room.

"Ah, Miss Campbell…good of you to come." Briggs lifted his gaze, fixing his eyes on hers. "Please, sit down."

She took a seat before she realized that she'd even considered it. "You wanted to see me?"

He nodded. "I need to know—what do you know about the Toreador Praxis?"

"Not very much, I have to admit, sir…I know their Elder is involved, and Miss Sturluson and her childe." Alice couldn't help but answer, and do so truthfully.

"What about the Harpy?"

"No. She's loyal to the throne."

"And the Primogen?"

"I don't know."

Briggs chuckled. "For someone so close to the Prince, you know little of those who wish him ill. One might think that you're pretending to be in love with him. But that's not the question here. I want you to convince the Harpy to involve herself in this."

"But it would cause scandal—Adelle would never risk her status."

The Elder ran a pale hand through his dark hair. "Maybe you didn't hear me clearly, my dear Alice…this is not a request. It is not a recommendation."

She focused a steely gaze on him. "And I wasn't refusing, I was only offering my informed opinion on the matter. I know Adelle fairly well—she won't stoop to that level."

"Stoop?" Henry rose from his desk, walking around it to stand behind the chair Alice was occupying. "I wouldn't call it stooping."

Alice felt herself tense as he moved behind her.

"You see, girl," his tone became condescending, "we are the rightful rulers of the Camarilla. Not the rabble. Not the Roses. We're going to pretend to help the Toreador get rid of Cantley and his cabinet."

The subsequent intrusion into her thoughts did not escape the Primogen's notice. He was scanning her reaction. With a great force of willpower and concentration, she forced him from her mind.

"If you want to know what I'm thinking, ask me. Don't invade my mind without permission."

"Very well then. What are you thinking?"

She tried to think of a lie, but it never got to her lips. She was telling the truth without realizing that she'd even started to.

"It's a good plan."

A smile spread across the elder's lips. "So…you've spent all this time pretending, hmm? You're not actually blood bound to the Prince, are you?"

"No." Again, she was compelled to speak the truth.

"You're just using him."

"Yes."

Briggs chuckled. "You're more Ventrue than I thought, Alice…but tell me, how did you convince him that you were bound?"

She glanced over at him, a smile crossing her face. "That's very simple, Henry. I drank his blood."

"And so he trusts you."

"Implicitly."

A soft laugh escaped his lips. It was rare that something amused him so much in these later nights. "You just came from meeting with him, yes? What happened?"

"We discussed the Toreador."

"And what was decided?"

"I'm going to speak with their elder. Offer an alternative to their Praxis."

"Which would be?"

"Support for someone else as Prince. They don't want Andrew on the throne, that's plain enough—but Mr. James is susceptible to beauty, and I pride myself on excelling at deception."

"You're going to steal the throne, then."

"If I can win the support of the old rose, then yes, that would be the plan. I know I'll have Andrew on my side. He can't help but support me."

He grinned. It was more eerie than anything else. "And everyone else? Will they support you as well?"

"I don't plan on giving them a choice. I was hoping I could count on your support, through. I'm sure you'd rather see a clanmate on the throne than a mere Brujah, yes?"

"Of course. I just worry about your loyalty, my dear. You're too good at pretending."

Alice smiled sweetly. "My allegiance to the clan is unshakable. Nothing could ever change that."

"Good." He was looking at her curiously, as if surprised by the truth she'd just spoken. "I still don't trust you…but I'm going to work with you. I sure as hell don't have time to be Prince, and I'd rather have you on the throne than Spencer."

Her smile widened. "Thank you, Strategos."

His eyes fixed on hers. "Of course, you will tell no one of our true plans."

"No one."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: I promise, I won't drag this out too much longer! I've got some plans on how to finish it up before I get to fifteen.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The beautiful woman waiting in the hallway knew she had been summoned. She was not entirely sure why—but she was worried. She'd managed to call her childe before she arrived at the Prince's haven, and left a message with him about where she was. And why she was there. If anything happened to her, he knew what to do.

"Ah…Edda, right?"

She stood at the abrupt greeting and turned to face the prince.

"Yes, Your Grace. You wanted to see me?"

"Please, step into my office."

"I would like to know why I am here?"

He frowned. "You'll find out soon. Move."

She grew quiet and nodded, stepping into the room. It was always easier for her to appease the authority figure—following orders was something that came naturally to her. The years of doing so had tainted her; made her submissive.

When she entered the office, she glanced around. And became instantly alarmed when she saw both the Sheriff and the Keeper in attendance. She turned on a heel and was planning on bolting towards the door when the Prince's hand closed tightly around her arm.

"Please stay. I insist." He spoke firmly, dragging her towards a chair and unceremoniously tossing her into the seat.

She shrunk into the velvet cushions, glancing around like a trapped animal.

"We just have a few questions for you," Kimberly spoke, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes.

"Just a few," Thomas agreed.

The Prince glanced at them, and both fell silent as he turned his attentions back to the traitor. His eyes narrowed as he leaned closer to her, capturing her in an air of intimidation.

"You're going to tell me everything, bitch. I know you're involved in the Praxis. Who else has a part in it?"

Her eyes widened in fear and she scrambled over an arm of the chair and, forcing her blood to fuel her speed, broke into a run for the door. She didn't expect the Prince to be faster. He caught up easily and grabbed her by the hair, using all of his might to throw her into the wall. She hit the wood paneling with a resolute "thud" and fell to the floor with a groan, stunned. It didn't last long—she was able to ignore the minor damage and easily get back to her feet. Where to go? How to escape? The window.

She only got a few feet before a stake was driven into her chest. Her body stiffened and fell into the waiting arms of the Prince.

"Thomas—go through her mind. See if you can find anything."

"Yes, sir," the Tremere answered, taking the paralyzed body.

He positioned her in the chair and stared into her still-open eyes. He forced his will over hers and was able to enter her foremost thoughts. He was using all of his mental prowess to probe deeper and deeper, searching for information on the Praxis, when he ran into a wall. He broke the telepathic link with a surprised look.

"She's been dominated."

"Can you break through?"

"No."

"Who can?"

"Someone older than me. With a greater mastery of the power. Michaels, maybe."

Andrew shook his head. "I don't want anyone else involved in this. We can ask Alice."

His officers exchanged skeptical looks.

"Andrew…" she began.

"Don't say it, Kim. I know her better than you. I know she can do this. And I trust her more than anyone."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

As it was, the Ventrue Primogen was just arriving at the manor of Martin James. Before leaving her haven, she'd been sure to gussy up—a pretty "little black dress," stockings, heels. Even a little bit of make-up on her pale skin, and a bit of curl to her red hair. She'd called ahead and asked to meet with him. He had, of course, agreed.

The butler showed her through the artfully designed hallways, the walls with paintings and tapestries, to the lounge. The door was open, and the elder was awaiting her arrival, sitting on the loveseat and holding one hand behind his back. He stood as she entered, bowing slightly.

"Primogen Campbell." He offered his hand when he straightened.

"Mr. James," she replied, slipping her hand into his.

He raised it to his lips. "I am curious, my dear, as to why exactly it was you wished to speak with me."

She pulled her hand away, smiling sweetly. "You don't think I've heard the rumors, then?"

Martin chuckled. "Ah…I should have guessed. And you're here to make a plea for your beloved Prince, yes?"

It was her turn to laugh. "Quite the opposite, actually…although I did want to offer you an alternative."

He motioned to the velvet loveseat. "By all means, my dear, be seated."

Alice sat, carefully crossing one leg over the other. The hem of the skirt rode up ever so slightly—just enough to show the lace tops of her stockings. The movement of his eyes from her own to her leg and then back, however quick, did not escape her attention.

"Now," he spoke, sitting down next to her, "what is this…alternative?"

She bit her lip tentatively before responding. "Well, I know that you want the power of the throne. You also must know that there are those who would not support you."

"Yes. Your own Mr. Briggs being one of them."

"Indeed," she nodded. "But he can't be the only one. And as great as your rule would be, I fear that it would not last long. They would use whatever means possible to take it from you. They'd break the rules. Play dirty."

She was playing to his ego. It was the method she found worked best with others like him.

"And what are you suggesting, then?"

"Put someone else on the throne. Someone everyone could accept. Someone who you could keep in your pocket. Your very own puppet prince."

He chuckled. "And you had yourself in mind for the position?"

"Perhaps," she replied, shrugging. "Unless you think one of yours could pull off the act."

"I only trust two of them—and neither is a very good liar when it comes down to it. But you, my dear…I have no reason to trust you."

"Then let me give you one." She raised her eyes to meet his. "I don't want to see any blood shed over the throne. I'll do whatever it takes so that you and Andrew don't kill each other—or get killed by someone else."

A grin spread across the elder's lips. "Ah, yes. Andrew. I thought you might mention him. Rumor has it you're bound to the Prince."

She sighed, seeming for all the world sad. "I'll admit to that—but I've not drank three times. Only twice…his hold over me isn't absolute."

"And so you want the throne."

She sighed in frustration, forcing air in and out of her lungs. "No! I'm nowhere near the best candidate for it…that would be you. But it's a dangerous position. You have to be aware of the risks…?"

"Of course I am. That's why I've come up with a flawless plan."

Alice smiled. "Of course." Her smile faltered. "But Andrew has summoned your second. Edda. She's likely staked at the moment."

He scowled, his fingers digging into the cushion that ran behind them. "Stupid girl…"

"Yes," the Ventrue nodded sadly, "you're in danger as well—she might tell them everything. Unless you have a second plan. A back-up. Your plan was flawless, yes…but one of your compatriots made a mistake."

"And you won't?"

"I won't be suspected to begin with."

"Does he trust you that much?" Martin raised an eyebrow, watching her face for any sign of a lie.

"He's bound to me. He has to." She spoke with a sparkle in her eyes. "Let's find a reason for _you _to trust me."

The old Rose took a moment to think on the matter. She really was his best bet on the road to the throne, and if he didn't take advantage of what she could offer, he might end up dead. However, he couldn't settle for being the one holding the strings behind the throne. He had to hold the power himself; be recognized as important. At the moment, though, she was the most effective tool for control. And he couldn't let the opportunity slip away. However, precautions were necessary.

He undid the silver cufflink on one of his sleeves—the left—and pulled the rich Italian fabric away from his wrist.

"If you want me to trust you…then drink."

She began to lean in, the promise of blood luring her to his pale flesh. She stopped when she was close and glanced up at him, unsure. He reached out, his other hand gently turning her head back to his arm, and moving it forward. She paused for a mere second before letting her fangs appear and then grasped his wrist tightly as she lowered her head to it, sinking her teeth into the still vein.

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End file.
